


make the most of your life, while it is rife, while it is light

by thermodynamicActivity (chlorinetrifluoride)



Series: The Collegestuck 'Verse [34]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Child Abuse, Dissociation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Humanstuck, Physical Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 13:15:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9731900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chlorinetrifluoride/pseuds/thermodynamicActivity
Summary: Your name is Roxy Lalonde, and you know everything that's happened to the Strider brothers. You've known them for fourteen years. So when they don't answer you, you and Rose get worried. And when you find out they're alright, you know they're not really alright. You ask someone you trust for help.Your name is Dirk Strider, and while you and Dave aren't ready to 'fess up to what's been happening to you, you can get him away for a few days. Your friend's sister offered him somewhere to crash downtown. You can hang out with Callie. Call it a vacation.You're name is Dave Strider, and you've finally found somewhere safe. But you can't stay. You need to do something. You need to be strong. You can't be afraid, and you can't get complacent. You will find a way to protect Dirk.





	1. well, you do enough talk, my little hawk

**Author's Note:**

> prequel to "such a funny thought to wrap you up in cloth"

_**October 2010 - Roxy Lalonde** _

It all starts out when Dirk doesn't answer his texts. Repeatedly. For like six fucking hours. And you need the Physics homework, so you contact the other asshole in your AP Physics C class.

TG: ok tell me u got the fiziks homework  
TG: consulted dork but hes not responding  
TG: i think bro broke his phone again  
TA: p 334-339 all the even problem2  
TG: u gotta be shittin me  
TG: only the odd problems have answers in the back  
TA: ii thiink mr c fiigured that one out  
TG: r u serious  
TG: it took him 2 yrs to figure that out  
TA: how do you know iit2 been two year2  
TG: cuz one fine day in the cafeteria in sophomoron year  
TG: all the seninors in physics c were like huddled around the txtbook  
TG: and one was my friend so i was like wtf r u doin  
TG: apparently copying the answers outta the back of the book  
TA: oh  
TA: ii 2ee  
TG: the perks of not being an asocial douche  
TA: ye2 ii alone know how two actually do the physiic2 homework  
TG: i kno how to do it  
TG: i just dont wanna  
TG: anyways i gotta go check on dirk so ill catch you on the flip side  
TA: what exactly are you goiing two do  
TG: im gonna walk down to his apartment and if bro is doin anything suspect im gonna kick his ass  
TA: thii2 ii2 a terriible iidea  
TG: well if you got better ones im all ears  
TG: thought so  
TG: cya  
TA: RX  
TG: wat  
TA: text me back agaiin by 11 would you  
TG: is that ur way of saying that u care  
TA: iit2 my way of 2ayiing text me back by 11

* * *

 Your name is Roxy Lalonde, and you are gonna find out what’s going on with Dirk, come hell or high water. He may be a douchebag, but he’s been your douchebag for sixteen years, and he always texts back. He’s texted back within ten minutes ever since he got a cell phone, and that was four years ago. 

And you know what goes on in that apartment. You know about all the terrible shit. You’ve known Dirk and Dave since 1996. You put on pants and a pair of flats.

“Where do you think you're going?” Rose asks you from her bed.

“Checking on Dirk,” you reply. “He’s not answering his texts.”

She looks thoughtful.

“Huh. Neither is Dave.”

That’s not a good sign. 

You and she look at each other, and within a few minutes, she’s armed with the length of chain she uses to keep her bicycle secure, and you’re armed with a mostly empty brandy bottle. You are both five foot two and a half (okay technically Rose is a half inch taller - you’re five foot two) and a hair under a hundred and fifteen pounds, which is to say the only way you could kick any appreciable amount of ass is combined.

You two dropped outta tae-kwon-do before you could learn to kick ass properly.

You drink the last of the brandy in the bottle. You decide to fortify yourself further by drinking ¾ths of a bottle of cooking sherry. While you’re doing that - drinking more, much to Rose’s consternation - you make sure your mom is asleep. 

You and Rose creep out of the apartment and into the night. Rose tries calling Dave. No answer. You call Dirk. No answer.

That’s your answer.

_What the fuck?_

Did Bro kill them? You’re gonna fuck him up so bad if that’s the case.

You walk over to their building, and someone’s propped the front door open with a phone book. Rose gestures at you to get behind her. You shoot her a skeptical look, but defer because she’s older by eleven months, and she can fight better. Not because of that, but because she can legitimately fight.

She almost impaled your father with her knitting needles once. And back then, she was nine. 

You two walk up the stairs to the Strider apartment very quietly.

Once you’re there, Rose rings the bell. She raises the chain, and you raise the bottle. 

Instead of a six foot dude with a katana, a Dave in pajamas answers the door. Upon seeing that you are armed and dangerous, he immediately takes five steps back, his sunglasses falling to the floor.

Rose lowers the chain. You try to hold the brandy bottle less menacingly.

“What on Earth?” she asks.

“I should be asking you the same question,” he replies.

You figure you’re the diplomatic one here. You’re the drunker one, anyway.

“We thought Bro ate you or something, so we came here as backup in case someone needed to save your asses.”

“Bro’s out across the country filming something,” Dave says.

“Why didn’t you answer your phone?” you ask.

“We were trying to sleep.”

You and Rose look at each other guiltily. Rose lets the length of chain clatter to the floor of the hallway.

“What the fuck is going on?” Dirk asks, coming into the doorway.

You shrug. “Well, Rose and I thought you guys were dead, but apparently you’re alive and shit, so uh, we don’t have anyone’s ass to kick. Tell me if we should go back home.”

Dirk looks at the two of you and snorts.

“You were going to take Bro on with a chain and a liquor bottle.”

“Well, it’s not like we keep any swords lying around, scuse the fuck outta me,” you reply defensively.

Dirk starts in about how you two had your stance all wrong, and all kinds of Dirk shit. You have never been happier to hear Dirk shit in all your life.

* * *

 

When you get back home, you think of sophomore year. Not just how you got rid of your father, but of what happened with Calliope. And you know what you have to do.

You have the right pesterchum handle to do what you have to do. 

TG: hey is this porrim maryam  
TG: my sisters girlfriends sister  
TG: god was that a mouthful  
TG: is this thing workin  
GA: Yes, this is Po+rrim.  
GA: I gather that yo+u must be Ro+se’s sister.  
TG: ya  
GA: What can I do+ fo+r yo+u, Ro+xy.  
TG: ok u took callie in because she was being abused rite  
GA: In a manner o+f speaking, yes.  
TG: wut if i told u i kno of more ppl who are being abused  
TG: but theyre not gonna admit it cuz bro code or somethin really stupid like that  
TG: could u use ur like  
TG: idek  
TG: magical nurse powers  
TG: to spontaneously save their stupid asssses  
GA: That isn’t quite ho+w it wo+rks.  
GA: If yo+u want me to+ call CPS o+n an abusive situatio+n, I can.  
TG: no no no fuck  
TG: hes just gonna pass a fucken inspection  
TG: we already tried that he passed the goddam inspection hes not gonna fail it this time  
TG: and theyre not gonna admit anythin i dunno why  
GA: Wo+uld it be presumptuo+us o+f me to+ ask if yo+u have been drinking to+night?  
TG: ya but ill tell you anyway  
TG: yes  
TG: that doesnt make anything less serious please  
TG: somethin is going to happen to one of them b4 this gets sorted out  
GA: To+ who+m are yo+u referring?  
TG: do u know the striders  
TG: dirk and dave  
TG: one got pointy sunglasses the other has round ones  
GA: I do+ no+t kno+w them well, but I have seen them in passing.  
TG: there blond and stuff  
TG: if u encountered the one with a stick up his ass thats dirk  
TG: hes my best friend  
GA: I see.  
GA: Ho+w abo+ut this?  
GA: Yo+u co+ntact me in the mo+rning, o+r whenever yo+u so+ber up, and we will discuss this further.  
TG: im not makin shit up because im drunk  
TG: i swear on my goddamn overall average and on my caltech application and my cat  
GA: I do+n’t believe yo+u are, but we can talk mo+re sensibly when yo+u are so+ber. That I kno+w to+ be true.  
TG: ok  
TG: if i tell them to go to ur apartment u wont turn them away rite  
GA: No+. I wo+uld never do+ such a thing.  
GA: Fo+r reference, the address is 58 Chrystie Street, in Chinato+wn. Take the B/D to+ Grand St.   
GA: In case yo+ur friends sho+uld need it.  
TG: ok then  
TG: talk to u tomorrow  
GA: Have a go+o+d evening, Ro+xy.  
TG: if u can help them will u promise me u will.  
GA: That I can pro+mise.

 Unbeknownst to you, Porrim asks her sister for a certain pesterchum handle. She knows more about the Striders than Roxy thinks. She thinks she knows which one might be more willing to accept help. 

* * *

GA: This is Po+rrim Maryam.  
GA: Kanaya’s sister.  
GA: I ho+pe this is Dave Strider.  
GA: I just want yo+u to+ kno+w that if yo+u and Dirk need so+mewhere to+ crash mo+mentarily, if anything happens, my apartment exists.  
GA: 58 Chrystie St. Yo+u take the B/D to Grand, and then yo+u call me.  
TG: uh  
TG: uh thanks porrim  
TG: ill keep that in mind  
TG: no really thank you  
TG: you took care of calliope didnt you  
GA: Yes.  
TG: got it

* * *

GA: If I ended up tempo+rarily taking in two+ teenagers fleeing an abusive situatio+n, ho+w wo+uld that sit with you?  
TA: U KN0  
TA: 73H FL00R 7W0 H3LL 15 P4V3D W17H G00D 1N73N10N5  
GA: That’s what I tho+ught.  
GA: Nevermind.  
TA: 1 D1D3N7 54Y N0  
TA: G1V3 M3 M0R3 7H4N 24 HR5 N071C3 50 1 C4N M0V3 5H17 4R0UND  
GA: Understo+o+d.  
TA: U 5H0ULD PR0LLY 73LL KURL0Z 51NC3 H3 P4Y5 R3N7  
GA: I did, and he assured me he did no+t give a go+o+d flying fuck.  
GA: His wo+rds, no+t mine.  
TA: 0F C0UR53

 


	2. we're all gonna die

 

 

 

 

_**October 2010 - Dirk Strider** _

Your name is Dirk Strider, and you’ve decided to take your friend’s sister up on her offer, at least for the next three days. You and your brother both wheel your own respective suitcases behind you.

You are not ready to tell someone with authority about Bro. [You will, though, just not yet.](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F6703513%2Fchapters%2F15331792&t=OWNjYWI3ZjMzYjgwMTk1Y2Q2MmViNGE1Y2MyYWEyOGVkYjUyZjgzMCxrVWZGdkFYNA%3D%3D&b=t%3A8Enk7uOusypR8G83_Qgk5Q&p=http%3A%2F%2Fc0llegestuck.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F157253575760%2Fbreathe-in-breathe-out-part-4&m=1) The least you can do is get Dave away for a few days. This was Dave’s idea anyway. You just happened to agree.

Unlike Calliope’s adventure in sophomore year, your trip to Chinatown is fairly uneventful. You know the subway system, and even if you didn’t, you have a smartphone to act as your GPS. 58 Chrystie street is a small apartment building that would have been really easy to miss if you didn’t know where to look.

You look at the list of tenants on the brick wall, until you find “Maryam - 3B”. You push the buzzer, and a woman answers.

“Yes?”

“This is Dirk and Dave,” you respond. “The Strider brothers.”

“Well, alright. Do come in.”

She buzzes you in. You two climb the stairs, trying not to make too much racket with the suitcases. It’s not super late, but it is already 9:30 PM. You don’t want to inconvenience anyone with this.

When you hit the third floor landing, you notice a woman in jade green hospital scrubs and long braids standing just outside an apartment. She turns, and you see someone with Kanaya’s general facial structure, except for the fact that Kanaya doesn’t have lip or eyebrow piercings. And Kanaya’s taller than this woman. 

Porrim. That’s her name.

Once you reach her, she extends her hand for you to shake. Dave flinches. Porrim looks momentarily sad, then lowers her hand.

“Evening, guys. I didn’t mean to scare you, if I did. I’m Porrim,” she says. She takes your suitcases. “Do come in, and make yourselves comfortable.”

"Thank you for having us," you say, softly.

"It's no problem at all!"

She smiles.

It’s a smaller apartment than you thought it would be. It’s definitely smaller than the place Bro has in Sunnyside.

There’s a guy in tiny purple shorts sitting on the couch. He appears to be packing a bong. He raises his hand in a sort of half salute, then goes back to packing his bong. Porrim confiscates the bong and puts it on a bookshelf, shooting him a glare that would leave you shaking in your Converses.

“I’m sorry that Calliope’s at work,” she continues. “She should be on her way home now, in any case. I know she’ll be glad to see you.”

“Cool,” you respond.

You like sticking to one word answers.  

“How long can we stay?” Dave asks. 

You’re a little surprised at him. He hasn’t said a word since he told you he wanted to come here.

“As long as you like,” Porrim replies. “Mituna will probably get a little pissy if you stay more than a month, but ze won’t actually ask you to leave. Ze’s not like that. How old did you two say you were?”

“I’m sixteen,” Dave says. Then, he points to you. “He’s seventeen.”

“I have a part time job, if you need me to pay rent,” you add. “I can pay for both of us.”

“If you’re still here in November, then we can discuss rent,” Porrim says. “For now, we gotta figure out somewhere for you two to sleep.”

“I can sleep in the closet, I don’t give a motherfuck,” comes a gravelly voice from the couch. 

You turn, and see Kurloz. Huh. So he is capable of speech.

“Nobody is sleeping in the closet,” Porrim insists.

Kurloz scribbles something on a legal pad and hands it to Porrim. She raises her eyebrows, piercings wobbling, and rolls her eyes.

“You are not going to sleep in my closet and wrinkle my clothes.”

Kurloz takes the pad back and scribbles some more.

“She’s a special case. That’s her quiet room.”

Kurloz ultimately nods.

Porrim points to a spot on the floor, behind the couch. “There’s an inflatable bed in the closet. An extra one. I’ll find it. If you don’t mind sleeping together, you can use that.”

“Uh,” Dave begins. “I don’t care.”

“Don’t care,” you repeat.

Porrim smiles, about to say something else, before someone starts pounding furiously on the door. Dave goes fifteen shades lighter, ducking behind the couch and drawing his knees up to his chest. Your hearing goes weird. You start to sway. Someone with the worst lisp you’ve ever heard starts shouting.

“The washing machine’s vomiting bubbleth again! Man fuck thith plathe, I thwear to God!”

And that’s the last thing you hear for a while.

The next time you’re aware of your surroundings, you’re sitting on the floor, Porrim’s got a little tube shaped flashlight in her hand, and she’s shaking it back and forth in front of your eyes.

“If he doesn’t respond soon, we’re going to have to take him down to Bellevue,” she murmurs to Dave.

“No, it’s okay,” Dave says. “He’ll be okay. He just does that sometimes.”

“What’d I do?” you ask them.

Dave stands up. “You checked out, dude. You just…” he looks for the words. “You did that blank thing.”

You blink. Man, you hate when you do that. You hate losing control.

“Sorry,” you say.

Porrim tells you gently that you need not apologize. The person with the lisp apologizes for not using their indoor voice.

“Tuna, you don’t have an indoor voice,” Porrim replies. Then, more seriously, she asks, “Is that going to be a problem, Dirk? Ze yells a lot. That’s hir method of expression.”

“No,” you say. “It doesn’t happen that frequently, that checking out thing. And now I know what to watch out for, so I don’t think it’ll happen again.”

“There are doctors you could see about that,” she goes on. “I know a few of them. They’re affiliated with my hospital.”

“No doctors,” you insist.

Porrim gazes at you like she’d like to argue, but does not. She finds the bed she had mentioned, and waits for it to inflate. While she does that, she takes out all of her piercings, and leaves them on a nearby counter.

“Working tonight?” Mituna asks.

“No, I’m just parading around in my scrubs for the sheer hell of it.”

Mituna embraces her from behind and rocks her back and forth. “Man, you’re piththed and it’th not even eleven yet. Are you working with Dr. Klein tonight or thomething?”

“Not that I know of,” she responds. “I’m just upset about the world.”

“You’re alwayth upthet about the world.”

“That’s true,” she admits, glancing fleetingly at you and Dave. “I hate it when bad things happen to people who don’t deserve them.”

“Join the club.” Mituna looks at the pair of you. “I’m Tuna, and I hope you guyth are okay. I have wathabi peath in the cabinet if you want any, and a whole bunch of xbox gameth. You can’t eat the gameth though.”

Porrim gets ready to leave for work, and makes Kurloz and Mituna swear up and down that they will not burn down the apartment while she is gone. They do. Well, Kurloz does with his fingers crossed behind his back.

"I'll be home at 4:30, so I don't think you can get in too much trouble."

Once she’s gone, Kurloz scribbles something on his legal pad and hands it to Dave. Dave reads it, snorts, and hands it to you.

“do you need me to kill any motherfuckers for you :o)”

You think about Bro.

You think for a good two minutes, in fact.

You scribble back an answer in the negative. Kurloz seems crestfallen about it. Mituna reads the message over his shoulder, rolls hir eyes, and looks to the pair of you.

“Alright, welcome to the crazy train, guyth. Please keep your handth and armth inthide the vehicle at all timeth, unlethth you are out on the fire ethcape throwing bong water on the dude who liveth below uth, which ith actively encouraged by everyone but Popo. If you wanna thmoke, there’th the fire ethcape.” Ze points to it. “If you wanna drink, uh, I hope you got a fake ID ‘cauthe I’m not buying you anything. If you wanna thmoke weed, make sure you bring enough for the retht of the clathth. And if you thmoke weed, you cannot rat uth out to Porrim for thmoking weed. It’th like that High Thchool Muthical Thing. We’re all in thith together.”

Dave bursts out laughing. You can’t help but crack a smile as well.

You’re not safe, but you’re safe tonight, and the next few nights.

That’s gonna have to be enough.

 


	3. oh, could i be the sky on the fourth of july?

_**October 2010 - Dave Strider** _

Staying with five people is, in one word, a fiasco.

During your first morning in Chinatown, you are rudely awakened at 5:45 in the morning to the sound of someone shouting, “Fuck English and fuck thith shit!”

You cram your shades, tucked into your pillowcase, onto your face. Dirk continues to snore next to you. You slide off the air mattress and into a ball on the floor, counting your breaths.

In for three.

One… two… three....

Out for four.

One… two… three… four…

Striders don’t get anxious, least of all over a little yelling. They’re too cool for that. They are _ice cold._ That is the name of the fucking game.

The voice continues to mutter things about “having never athked for thith shit” and “who the hell thcheduleth claththeth at 7:30 in the morning?”

“Well, maybe if you hadn’t waited until the absolute last day to register for classes, you would have gotten better times,” a sensible voice replies. “Keep it down, Tuna. You’ll wake the others.”

“Are we theriouthly having waakye and thaltfish for breakfatht again?” Mituna asks.

“When you figure out how to cook something more complicated than instant ramen, I invite you to make breakfast.”

“Hey, no fair,” ze replies. “I can make thcrambled eggth.”

“Start scrambling, then.”

Someone gets up off the futon - apparently the sofa converts to a futon - and sighs loudly. It’s Porrim, wearing a little jade green nightie. That is way more of Porrim than you thought you'd ever see, and you're not complaining. Not bad on the eyes by any estimation. She locks eyes with you, looks down at what she's wearing, looks back up at your expression, and sighs. She puts on a nearby pair of pants. 

“Oh, you’re up.” She tosses an errant braid back from her face. “Breakfast is ready, if you want any.”

Mituna fires back something about how the extent to which whatever ze’s eating could be considered breakfast is debatable. Porrim shoots hir a glare. Mituna also demands that Porrim pay up. You have no idea what she’s paying for until she frowns, goes into her pocketbook, and hands hir five cigarettes.

“If you ask me for any more, I’ll throw you off the fire escape.”

“Leatht I won’t have to go to English if I’m dead.”

“Three stories probably won’t kill you, if you land in the grass,” Porrim says. “It’ll fuck you up really badly, though.”

“Perfect.”

Someone else stirs, but from the air mattress on the other side of the futon, so you can’t see who it is. As soon as you hear the voice, you know, though.

“What’s all this about defenestration and scrambled eggs?” Callie asks, rubbing her eyes. She takes one look at you and claps once. “Good morning, Dave!”

“Morning,” you repeat, voice gone all raspy from sleep. You don’t really have much else to say. “Nice to see you.”

“Likewise!”

Everyone in the apartment - everyone who’s awake, anyway - stops talking for a bit. Porrim goes into the kitchen.

“I’m fixing plates and putting out medication, alright?”

“Thank you, Porrim,” Callie says.

“Yeah, thankth,” Mituna chimes in. “Hey, can I get thecondth?”

“First, you disparage my cooking, and then--”

“What can I thay?” Ze asks. “I’m hungry.”

You look down and over at Dirk, who continues to sleep peacefully. That is some awfully strange behavior from him, because normally he’s the one waking you up while he does his five million push-ups in the morning. He also doesn’t usually sleep, insofar as you’ve woken up at pretty much any point at night and seen him staring at the doorway of the room you share, afraid Bro was going to try something at 3 AM.

Still, his fears are not without merit. You have had various sword-like objects lobbed in your general direction at all kinds of stupid hours.

He even insisted on taking the bed closest to the door, for that reason. To put more space between you and Bro. You don’t know why he does. You might not be as strong as him, but you aren’t weak. You can hold your own.

But right now, he’s like, dead asleep. You didn’t even know he could do that. You crouch down and make sure he’s still breathing. He is.

You hear arguing from the kitchen and wonder if Porrim and Mituna have gotten into it again. If you didn’t have that kind of friendship with several people, you’d be legitimately worried for the both of them.

“I take 450 in the morning and 450 at night,” Mituna says.

 _450 what?_   you want to know.

“You take 600 and 600,” Porrim says. “I picked the new prescription up for you yesterday. Look at the bottle.”

“What if I only wanna take 450?”

“What if I only want to take 20 milligrams of paroxetine?”

“Then, you cut the fuckin’ pill in half, it’th not that hard.”

“That’s not the point I’m trying to make.”

"Fuck the point you're trying to make. Fuck the po-lithe."

"Tuna, I swear to god."

You walk into the kitchen, faintly amused, to see Mituna drinking liberally from a coffee cup. Ze wipes hir mouth on the back of hir hand.

“There, Pomary,” ze says. “Are you thatisfied?”

Porrim takes a pill and drops it into hir hand. “And the lamotrigine.”

“Man, can you let me fuckin’ live my life?”

Ze swallows whatever it is and flips her off.

Callie takes all her medication without a word, except to wonder aloud why the coffee is so bitter.

“Thith ith why I never do anything for any of you,” Mituna mutters. “Thith coffee ith ath bitter ath my thoul. It’th practically performanthe art.”  
  
“Far be it from me to drink any of your precious art.” Porrim rolls her eyes. “And I thought you sold your soul to get into grad school.”  
  
Mituna throws hir hands up.

“I haven’t gotten into grad thchool yet! Thtill got my thoul rattling around in here thomewhere.”  
  
“I think I can hear it,” Calliope says, with a faint smile.  
  
“Nah, that’th my thtomach.”  
  
It’s pretty fucking chaotic here, but you could probably dig staying for a while. You wonder how Kurloz manages to sleep through it, but Kurloz is fucking weird, even weirder than his brother, so whatever.

Callie rinses out an empty mug in the sink.

“How do you take your coffee?”

“Black, usually.”

You figure that if you’re going to drink coffee, what’s the point in adding anything to it. She pours you a cup and hands it to you. She also hands a plate to you, laden with rice, beans, and some other stuff you can't identify. It tastes great, and it's warm. This is way better than what you eat at home.

“Thanks for the coffee, Callie. And thank you for the food, Porrim."

She waves your thanks off good-naturedly. 

Porrim sighs. “I’d better wake Kurloz soon. Otherwise you won’t be getting to school.”

“Isn’t there a train up the block?” you ask.

“Yes, but he has a car, and he’s going to drive Calliope and Gamzee anyway, so I don’t think he’d mind giving you a ride.”

Damn. Sweet.

Mituna goes and shakes awake what you thought was a pile of rumpled sheets, at least until it sits up and starts to sign to hir. Mituna signs something back. They go back and forth like this for several minutes, and it’s not like you know what they’re saying. Mituna points to you and signs something. Kurloz nods.

“That’th a yeth,” ze says.

“Kurloz, do me a favor and check the weather?” Porrim asks.

Kurloz gets up, wearing nothing but his little purple shorts, opens the window, and crawls out onto the fire escape. Porrim raises an eyebrow. He comes back inside, walks into the kitchen, and signs something to Porrim.

“What’d he say?” you whisper to Callie.

“He said that it’s fucking cold. I'm using exact words.”

Either way, it's weird hearing curses come out of her mouth. You snort.

Porrim signs something to Kurloz. He rolls his eyes and replies.

“What are they saying?” you ask again.

“Porrim said it would have been easier to just listen to the weather report. Kurloz said he could do that in the car on the way to school and be motherfucking efficient. Again, exact words.”

“Oh. Okay, then,” you say. “I should probably go wake Dirk.”

You have a dubstep remix of the Reveille that you blast on the off chance you’re awake before Dirk, but it’s on your computer, which is in your bag. You decide that shaking him awake will have to do. You crouch next to him.

“Hey c’mon man, we gotta go to school,” you tell him. “Gotta get all educated and shit.”

He opens his eyes, squinting against the light, and stares at you, confused.

“When did you get up?” he wants to know.

“Mituna started bitching at six.”

“Mituna?”

“We’re in Chinatown, remember?”

He props himself up on one hand.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“Cause you were asleep, dude. C’mon, we gotta get dressed.”

If you thought the logistics of six people eating breakfast was convoluted, you did not consider the thought of six people using the same bathroom, which is a thing that just occurred to you. Rather than dueling to the death, it’s actually pretty simple. Kurloz showers at night. Porrim showers before class, which is in the afternoon. Mituna showers before class, but doesn’t care what time ze gets to class, which means it’s only between you, Callie, and Dirk.

Dirk showered last night, and Callie is happy to let you have first dibs on the shower.

So you stand underneath the water, in this tiny bathtub, and contemplate your life and the universe and all that other stuff people contemplate while they are butt ass naked and trying to get cleaned up.

You can’t stay here past a week. This place is too small. You and Dirk have important shit like half-built robots and turntables that wouldn’t fit in here. Also, you don’t think you just crashing Porrim’s like this is legal, even if she’s perfectly happy to help you out. You asked her last night why she decided to take you - you think Rose dropped a dime on you - and she said that it was the right thing to do.

So she is decidedly not someone you want to fuck over.

And if Bro decides to start some shit, and you don’t know if he would - he is rightfully scared of the authorities, all of the authorities - everyone living here would be in hot water, particularly Callie.

You don’t want her to get discovered and sent back to her living situation. You know Caliborn. You know how he operates. He’s actually worse than Bro. Bro never hurt you in ways you couldn’t get patched up.

Alright, someone like Porrim - _did she really try to get Dirk to see a shrink?_ \- would beg to differ, but you are pretty much fine. Maybe a little traumatized. But not completely busted. Damaged but not severely.

Calliope has been to hell and managed to claw her way back. She can’t get sent home. You’d never forgive yourself if that happened.

What you need to do is figure out a legal way to get away from your guardian forever. It actually wouldn’t be that hard. You’re covered in scars, and they’re not even the kind that could be mistaken for self-inflicted shit. You’ve seen scars like that on Roxy, Eridan, Callie, and Sollux (and Rose, but you pretended you didn’t). They’re too straight. And usually more numerous on the opposite side from the person’s dominant hand.

Sixteen year olds should not know the fucking difference between these kinds of injuries. You are fucked in the head, Dave.

If you went up to a hospital and told the doctors you were being abused, they’d probably believe you, even though you’ve lied for Bro so many times it’s become second nature.

But then you’d get taken away from him become part of The System.

Bro has told you and Dirk stories about The System. You’ve heard stuff on the news about The System. It’s always about kids getting beaten up terribly. You’re not a kid, but if you wanted to get beaten up terribly, you could just stay in Sunnyside and not have to move your shit.

And once Dirk turns 18, he won’t be part of The System anymore, you figure. He’ll have to go somewhere else. You’ll get separated from him. So you cannot become part of The System.

You have a feeling that if you asked if you could get placed with people like Porrim and Mituna, they wouldn’t go for it, not because they wouldn't want to help you. But they have to be too young to do that. Porrim is four years older than her sister, which makes her maybe twenty. Mituna, you figure, is maybe twenty-one, twenty-two tops. And Kurloz can't be older than that.

So their living arrangement is precarious enough as it is.

Could you ask to get placed with John and Jane, over in Bay Ridge? Their dads might go for it. It would be one hell of a commute to school though. You think they leave their house at like 1:30 am to get to school by 7 or something. They should have just gone to Tech.

Jade and Jake’s guardians are too old. With your luck, they’ll die, and you’ll be fucked again. And so will they.

Mom Lalonde is probably too drunk. She’s a nice lady, though, probably the nicest you know. Maybe you could catch her on a sober week and ask. But then you’d have to explain why, and you’d probably overexplain, and Rose and Roxy would do the Lalonde thing, go down the block, kill Bro, and get arrested before you’re even done explaining. 

Maybe you could ask Terezi’s mom. Carmela. She's a nurse and everything, works down at Elmhurst Hospital. She’s kind, and responsible, and over the age of twenty. Over the age of forty, for that matter. You dunno how old you have to be. It’s gotta be at least twenty. Probably.

You need to look that up. You can’t do that at home. Bro has weird shit installed on your laptop, being that you inherited it from him.

What if it’s some keylogger shit? You can’t telegraph your moves like that.

Using a school computer is out because you know those are fucking bugged. That’s how John ended up with fifty detentions for looking up the term “deepthroat” in the 9th grade. Well, that and some asshole upperclassman from robotics who told him to do it before he could ask someone sensible (like you) who would have stopped him. If you start looking up shit related to child abuse, they look up your fucking username, and you are completely boned. You can’t even pass it off as an AP Gov assignment, ‘cause you’re not in AP Gov.

You can’t use Dirk’s computer, ‘cause that’ll just get you a whole bunch of questions that you can’t even answer yet. It’ll make him worry, and you would very much like if he stopped worrying where you’re concerned. You’re smaller than he is but that doesn’t mean you’re made of china. You won’t break under the slightest provocation. And you think you can take a lot more breaking than he can. He's already nearly stretched to his breaking point. You are not.

Maybe you can ask Porrim if you can use her computer while you’re here. She already knows your situation. All looking at the history when you’re done with the computer will do is make her sad, probably. She has to know the deal. Look at the way you flinched last night when she tried to shake hands with Dirk. Telegraphing your moves, Dave. Stop telegraphing your moves, Dave.

Everything is wrong. Nothing is right.

Dirk thinks it’s his duty to get you away from Bro, but you beg to differ. You’re not the one who mentally checks out all over the place. You’re not the one with the weird personality shifts and the memory gaps. You don’t sleep easy at night, but you go to sleep eventually. Dirk sits up all goddamn night like some kind of fucking sentinel, in case he’s gotta take some shit in strife. To protect you. He wants to protect you. He has always tried to protect you.

You, who never wanted to fight. You, who don’t want to fight. Why can’t you just stay in this studio apartment, pull the covers over your head, and never fight again?

Dirk wants to protect you. But you gotta protect him, now. You gotta protect him from that haunted look you see in Callie’s eyes sometimes. You don’t need him to develop shit like that too.

You’re not too good at protecting anyone, but you will be.

Your name is Dave Strider and you will be.

You turn off the shower and put on your clothes. The look on your face must be interesting, because Callie stares at you oddly once you open the door.

“Are you quite alright, Dave?”

You nod, wordlessly.

“Is Porrim around?” you ask her. “I need to talk to her.”

“She’s in the closet, folding things,” Calliope replies. “Is something the matter?”

“No,” you say. “Don’t worry about it. It’s your turn to use the shower, anyway.”

“Oh, yes, that’s right. Thank you.”

You walk over to the closet, which is spacious enough that you don’t blame Kurloz for wanting to sleep in there. Jesus actual fuck. You could probably fit a bed in here with enough finagling. However Porrim jumps once she hears you coming up behind her.

So she startles easily, too. You wonder what that's about.

“Is there something I can do for you, Dave?” she asks, a half-folded sweater in her arms.

“Um, I was just wondering, like, if I can use your computer at some point?” you ask. “I need to look some stuff up.”

“That wouldn't be a problem at all,” Porrim says, a small smile on her face. “Just let me know when you’d like to use it. Or, since I’ll be working tonight, you can use it then. I’ll write down the password and leave it in your suitcase. Oh, if you need the wifi, Mituna's got the password taped to the fridge.”

“Cool. Thanks.”

And, speak of the devil, Mituna casually walks into the closet, evidently in search of pants, since hir pants were tragically folded and put away, and now ze can't find them.

“Popo, thtop tryna seduce high thchool thtudentth,” ze says, with the most idiotic grin.

You decide that ze and Sollux are, in fact, completely alike, despite the age and gender differences.

One’s a sarcastic asshole at a normal volume, and one’s a sarcastic asshole at a louder volume. You say this, and instead of objecting, Mituna just nods solemnly, while Porrim cackles.

Once Callie’s dressed, and drunk her second cup of coffee for the day, Kurloz grabs his car keys off the bookshelf. He is wearing a hoodie, his purple shorts, and skeleton leggings. You exchange glances with Dirk, and don’t know why you expected anything else. Kurloz signs something to Callie, who is quick to translate.

“You two get in the back, and I’m riding shotgun,” she says. “And don’t forget to make room for Gamzee.”

The drive to school, for lack of a better term, exceeds your expectations. Your expectations for arriving in one piece. Kurloz drives an ancient white Ford Econoline with a back window that has been duct taped into place. A creeper van by any other name. That’s a lie. It’s just a creeper van. Gamzee gets into the back, seated next to you, somewhere in Harlem. He acts as if the fact that Kurloz is treating the speed limit as a polite suggestion is completely normal. So does Callie.

You and Dirk exchange glances again. You’re going to die, and this isn’t even how you planned it. You saw yourself raking in the dough, paying someone to kill Bro, and y’know, having gotten old and stuff. Not sixteen and gripping the armrest of a creeper van for dear life.

Kurloz takes the Harlem River Drive at a jaunty 85 miles per hour, and does the same with every other highway and street that you poor fuckers need to pass. You were raised in no way Catholic, or even religious, but you can hear Dirk saying the Hail Mary repeatedly while the busted window rattles.

You decide to join with the Our Father. You don’t know how the Our Father goes. You make it up as you go along, trapped in this car on the Mosholu Parkway.

“Our Father, our Dude, our Homeboy, who art in heaven, hollow be thy name. Please do not let me die before I lose my virginity. Your kingdom’s hella rad, thy will be solid, on earth and everywhere else and heaven. Give this guy a glance at the speedometer. Forgive us our trespasses, we were totally doing them for legit reasons, even if we got detention. And if you’re gonna lead us into temptation, please let it be Porrim half naked again. Deliver us from Kurloz, for thine is the kingdom, and the bitches, and the sick beats, forever and ever. Amen.”

You repeat that prayer a few more times.

You know Calliope can hear you up front, because she’s covering her mouth to muffle her laughter. Kurloz catches your eye in the rearview mirror and slows the car down. Wait, no he doesn’t. He was slowing down to switch lanes and get in front of some other guy.

Well, Dave. This is how you die. You’re doing it man, you’re making it happen. You think about texting Rose about it, but you figure that Aradia Megido is probably right about ghosts, so you can just haunt Rose after you die. She'll be reading her "tasteful lesbian romances" and _BAM_   you'll totally fucking appear out of the ether. 

Then the car rounds the block for your school like a bat out of hell - you're pretty sure the tires left skid marks at the corner - and you realize truly and legitimately that you lived through this ordeal.

“Dirk, man?” you ask, shaking.

“Yeah?”

“You gotta pinch me. Make sure I didn’t die and go to heaven.”

Dirk points across the street at the school building.

“I’m pretty sure we went to the other place, bro.”

“Figures.”

You get out of Kurloz’s van and resist the urge to kiss the street.

Giddy as you are to be alive, you remember your resolution from the morning.

You have to protect Dirk.

There's really not much to protect him from at school. Maybe Equius and all his sweating. You'll pass on that one. 

Kurloz drives you, Callie, Dirk, and Gamzee home in the same fashion after school. All of you have extracurriculars, so it’s getting dark by the time you get out. Dirk has fencing team, Callie’s tutoring, and you and Gamzee are in the time-honored high school tradition known as detention. Detention is so an extracurricular activity. You’re gonna put it on your Common App.

The ten days you spend in Chinatown goes by in a blur. A blur where you’re not afraid of being confronted by Bro, where Dirk sleeps, where Callie studies, where Porrim works, where Kurloz smokes entirely too much weed for one skinny dude, and Mituna gets antagonized by the cat.

That’s another thing. They have a cat. His name is Enderman. He follows Mituna everywhere ze goes, much to hir consternation.

You all joke about what you’ll wear to the Halloween parade over by West 4th St. You’re kind of unhappy when you have to leave, because it is before the parade, and because you have to leave.

But you and Dirk have mutually determined that you can’t stay.

You tell Porrim why, and after she and Mituna assure you it wouldn’t be an issue, that they can sort through it, call in Latula’s expertise, you two still leave for home while everyone is asleep. At least, you think they’re asleep.

The thing with Calliope is that she’s not unlike Dirk where certain things are concerned. She sleeps very seldom, and very lightly. When you take one last glance at where you think the apartment is, she’s already standing on the fire escape, a cigarette in one hand and the other on the railing.

She waves to the two of you sadly, hanging over the railing. After a while, she stubs out her cigarette and goes back inside.

Then you’re back home, and Bro hasn’t really cared where you’ve been.

But now everything’s real. Your plan to protect Dirk. Your plan, which you still haven’t actually fucking figured out, go you.

Everything goes relatively normal, as normal as you can get with shitty swords in your face every six or so hours.

Dirk still takes more hits than you do, because he won’t let you take any if he’s around, and as good as Dirk is, he’s not really a match for Bro. He does win every third or so time, but that just makes Bro redouble his efforts.

“He’ll be able to make it later,” Bro says to you, pointing at Dirk.

You know what Bro is really saying. You won’t. You are a disappointment, and Dirk is not.

Dirk always talks in your room in a whisper about how he thinks he could incapacitate Bro, how he could knock him loopy for long enough to buy you two time to run.

“Run where?” you want to know.

Dirk never has an answer. You never do either.

You could run back to Chrystie St. But what then? You'd still have the same problems.

Two weeks later, you get your answer in the form of a round of strife Dirk couldn’t shield you from. You and your exceedingly shitty sword against Bro and his mildly shitty sword. This is a fight you can’t win. You parry and feint retreat exponentially more times than you try to land a hit. You don’t think you can land a hit. And Bro’s not helping, he’s calling you useless, and he’s right, he’s right, he’s right.

You can’t protect Dirk. He’d be standing right there, ready to jump in front of you if he didn’t think Bro wouldn’t just seek you out anyway. You know he’s in your room listening.

But all of a sudden, he doesn’t have to.

You get your wish.

Nobody has to fight again.

Bro comes at you, and you turn to dodge instinctively. He slams you into the adjacent wall, and you hear something crack. White-hot pain, vertiginous and acute, shoots up and down your arm. You drop down to the floor, gasping for air. You curl up into a ball as best you can, tears streaming down your face.

Bro gazes at you, and you think you see surprise underneath those shades.

“Dirk! Help!” You shout, voice cracking. “Dirk, help me!”

You don’t think you’ve shouted that since you were nine. Back before you realized that Dirk helping you would mean him getting hit.

Dirk dashes out of your room - looking pained and furious and terrified and sick and emotions you’ve never seen on his face before - and kneels down beside you.

“My f-fuckin’ arm, man. It’s all fucked up.”

Dirk takes your arm, and assesses it as gingerly as humanly possible. He tries to extend it but doesn't. 

“It’s broken, Dave. Don’t worry. We’ll get this fixed. We can get this fixed.”

He seems to be trying to reassure himself more than you.

"I'm sorry," Bro says, serious in a way you've rarely seen him. "I didn't mean for it to go this far. I'll take you to the hospital, wherever you need to go."

He'll take you to the hospital?

No, no, no, you can't lie for him to the doctors again, you can't, you _can't. Please no._

Dirk stands, and while you can’t see the hate in his eyes, it’s written in every inch of his posture. “ _I’m_ taking Dave to the hospital. _We_ don’t need your help.”

Bro doesn’t even bother trying to stop you. You focus on trying not to cry out every time your arm moves in any direction. You are not weak. You will not be weak. You will be strong, stronger than you thought you could be. You will not be weak. Stop shuddering, you tell yourself. It's just a broken arm.

“Are you okay?” Dirk asks.

“I’ll be fine,” you lie. “Guess we’re really going to the hospital?”

“We’re going to Elmhurst Hospital,” he says to you, his arm looped in your functional arm.

You nod. You swallow. You find the ability to speak.

“Whatever you say, man.”

You think of the hospital.

Something like triumph forms hairline cracks through your hopelessness and pain.

You know what you have to do. You haven't failed. You climb the stairs to the 7 train station.

“I'm so sorry,” Dirk says.

"Don't worry about it."

Dirk trips up the stairs to the train platform. He scrapes his hands pretty decently. You ask him if he's okay, and he just gives you a glassy stare for a while.

Right. Right then. You'll keep him safe.

You think of the future.

They'll protect you both at the hospital. _Maybe even Carmela...?_

You don't dare hope anything. You'll call Terezi when you get on the train. You need to ask her something.

Either way, the people at the hospital will protect you. 

But you are afraid.

You're afraid of the building when it's looming in front of you. You nearly decide to go back home.

Dirk tells you that he wants to confess everything, when you two are standing immediately outside of the hospital.

You nod, lost for words. 

Later, you reflect that the protector you expected isn’t quite the protector you get.

However, she is a good person. You know she has a dark past. Everyone has a dark past. But she’s tender, and kind, and doesn’t press you to do things if you can’t do them.

She doesn’t seem like the sort of person who ever learned how to be cruel. So instead, she just drank a lot so she wouldn’t have to think. But she stopped doing that. She stepped up to be a parent.

You understand why Rose and Roxy are so protective of her.

She’s protective of them too. They are her daughters.

And from the moment your discharge papers are signed, from the second you are cleared to go home with her, she is protective of you and Dirk.

TG: so im not going back to bros  
TG: my arms fucking broken tho  
TG: but im not going back  
TG: im staying with ms lalonde and the rest of them  
TG: so is dirk  
GA: I am relieved to+ hear yo+u have fo+und a way o+ut.  
GA: Altho+ugh I am so+rry abo+ut yo+ur arm.  
GA: If yo+u need anything, just let me kno+w.  
TG: got it  
GA: And sto+p typing with a bro+ken arm.  
TG: oh man are u asking me to get all loquacious up in this bitch  
TG: cause i am a veritable wordsmith  
TG: dont get me started porrim i will never ever stop  
TG: i will take all my SAT words and i will lay them down like a bricklayer  
TG: but instead of laying bricks im laying sick beats  
TG: imagine if you will porrim  
GA: Why do+ I ever try to+ suggest anything to+ anyo+ne? No+bo+dy listens.  
TG: are you telling me to get suggestive  
GA: Dear Go+d, I need a drink.  
TG: is this happening to me  
TG: thank you based god  
TG: since you are such a stunning lady i will gladly oblige  
GA: O+kay, first I tho+ught yo+u were being iro+nic o+r whatever, but no+w I'm mildly co+ncerned.  
GA: Dave, is so+mething wro+ng?  
TG: This is Dirk now. I confiscated Dave's phone.  
TG: He seemed to be having way too much fun.  
GA: Indeed.  
TG: They gave him a lot of pain medication in the ER, so I think he's just really stoned.  
GA: Yeah, painkillers will do+ that to+ yo+u. Thank yo+u fo+r yo+ur assistance, Dirk.  
GA: I remember they gave Mituna o+xyco+do+ne after ze got hir wisdom teeth remo+ved and ze was enthralled by karao+ke that was no+t playing and using my hair brush to+ sing "I Want it That Way"  
TG: I can't wait to watch Dave try to apologize for this tomorrow.  
GA: Dave, fo+r to+mo+rrow, do+n't sweat it, I pro+mise I've heard wo+rse.  
GA: And I also+ pro+mised I'd actually listen to+ so+me o+f yo+ur music anyway.

Embarrassed is not the appropriate word for what you feel after that. You show it to Rose on the train your first morning back to school and she laughs for two consecutive stops, you're not even exaggerating. That is going down in history. Roxy does that thing where she laughs so hard that she stops breathing.

"I tried to help you, dude," Dirk says.

"Yeah, after I already fucked everything up," you reply.

You text her about ten text messages worth of apologies.

And instead of going straight to the Lalonde apartment, after your first day of school, you go down to Chinatown.

You wander for a bit, until you find the right building. _Maryam - 3B_. You ring the bell.

“Who the fuck?” Mituna asks.

“It’s Dave.”

"Tryna put the moveth on my roommate, I thee how it ith," ze replies, buzzing you in nevertheless.

Ze and Porrim are sitting around in their underwear, watching Netflix.

Both of them look surprised to see you, and with a full-arm cast at that. You give them the Sparknotes on what happened, since they seem to want to ask. Both of them are ready to take the train to Queens and kill Bro. But you make them promise not to, because you guys are sorta friends now, and friends keep friends out of prison. 

You hand Porrim a sharpie marker.

“I wanted to say thank you for your help,” you say. “And Callie and Kurloz already signed it, so I figured you should, too.”

Porrim hands the marker to Mituna first, since ze's making grabby hands. Ze writes in hir largest block lettering “YOU’RE WELCOME YOU STUPID FUCKER”. Ze draws a giant dick underneath it.

Welp, you guess everyone else is gonna have to sign in 8 pt font. Truly, Tuna left you a masterpiece. You wonder if ze knows you’re gonna be wearing that on your arm for a while. Probably does, yeah.

It's somehow larger, angrier, and more capitalized than what Karkat had to say. Will wonders never cease?

Porrim shakes her head, and just signs her name.

“You are always welcome, Dave. You are always welcome here, Dave,” she says with a smile. "You and Dirk. I believe you owe Mituna a rematch in Mariokart, at any rate?"

Mituna looks at you like you're going to get annihilated. You are so ready to bring it. You've played Mariokart with Latula and Terezi in the Pyrope household. You are an expert at sitting on your ass and mashing buttons. All you gotta do is get this cast off your arm and then you’ll be ready to go.


End file.
